


A Crown of Stars (the King of Nothing Remix)

by wyvern



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, First Kiss, M/M, Magic, Magic Revealed, Remix, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-03-20 10:29:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18990847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvern/pseuds/wyvern
Summary: Morgana has taken over Camelot, and Arthur, Merlin and the others barely managed to escape and are now on the run. However, she’s looking for them and Arthur must consider something he’s never had to consider before.





	A Crown of Stars (the King of Nothing Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [destroyerofhearts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/destroyerofhearts/gifts).
  * Inspired by [They Took The Crown (But It's Alright)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17284652) by [destroyerofhearts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/destroyerofhearts/pseuds/destroyerofhearts). 



> Thank you, destroyerofhearts, for letting me remix your beautiful fic! The first I read was the one I fell the hardest for. My version takes place in space, but I hope you’ll like it anyway.
> 
> And thank you, mods, for continuing to run this lovely fest! Also a big thank you to Trojie, who saved my butt by betaing this fic both quickly and brilliantly -- and for her kind and encouraging words!
> 
> "Merlin" and its characters belong to BBC, Shine, history, and whatever else. It's not me, I'm just playing with them. The character death does not refer to Arthur or Merlin.

~***~

The stars outside the window always calm Arthur down, and the soft whirring of the spaceship’s engine soothes him in a way barely anything else does anymore. He strokes the instruments softly, runs his hand over them without altering their settings before sighing quietly and leaning back into his chair. As usual, Arthur is at the helm as everyone else rests in their quarters, sitting quietly and looking out at the stars, unsure if he wants to forget all about Camelot or remember it as it used to be. It was his home, after all, but it’s not any more and it seems unlikely it’ll ever be again.

The ship, Tintagel, is his home now, however crappy it is and however much work it takes to keep it flying. Or maybe people are home more than a place these days? If so, his home is on the ship, unaware, sleeping in a small, cramped bunk close to the engine room. He doesn’t know he is Arthur’s anchor and has been since long before Morgana took over Camelot and had them all running for their lives. He’s just a babbling idiot who has managed to sneak his way in under Arthur’s skin during the many years they’ve spent together.

Merlin’s become even dearer to him since they fled. He’s kept close to Arthur like a loyal dog since the moment Morgana burst into the capital and started wreaking havoc. Often Arthur finds himself just watching Merlin work on the ship, diligent fingers working quickly to solve whatever problem there is. He’s fascinating in a way Arthur can’t and never will be able to explain to anyone.

Arthur covers his face with his hands and sighs deeply. He desperately wants more than just to watch, but he can’t. 

Outside the window, stars twinkle innocently, unaware of all human suffering. 

Arthur has always loved the stars and used to watch them lying on his back on the grass outside his parents’ house. When he was a young boy he had always let his mind wander, forgetting time and responsibilities alike. He can almost hear his nanny’s shrill voice again as she had searched for him while he hid from her, and he smiles to himself. What a little prick he had been then.

He wishes he could be that free now.

“Sir?”

Spinning around, Arthur sees Percival standing in the doorway to the bridge. His silhouette is easily recognisable.

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir’, Perce. I’m nobody out here.”

Percival steps into the room and sits himself down in the chair next to Arthur’s. He looks tired.

“Sorry, sir. I guess old habits die hard.”

“Mm. What’s up?”

“I just received a notification saying Morgana’s looking for us.”

“Hasn’t she since the day we managed to escape her in the first place?” Arthur says wryly.

“Of course, but now it seems she’s been intensifying the search. And my source says she’s using magic to find us.”

Arthur can feel his insides go cold and he takes a deep breath before answering.

“But… Using magic in space is unpredictable at best and deadly at worst. Most people with magic won’t even try it, it’s almost impossible to control. I’ve never even heard of anyone who's tried and not died. What is she playing at?”

Their eyes meet for a second, and then Percival looks down into his lap. 

“My source says she’s become powerful enough, or mad enough, to attempt it. He reckons she really wants to bring your head home impaled on a stake. But sir, have you not considered…” 

He quiets, and shakes his head sadly.

“I’m sorry, sir, I just thought you should know. It seems we might need help soon, or somehow find a place where her magic doesn’t reach. Would you know someone who might be able to help us?”

Arthur stares at him. They’re not exactly drowning in allies at the moment. Everyone needs to protect their own people.

“Carleon and Gawant still support us,” he says, “but they can’t protect us against Morgana, and I would never ask them to.”

There’s silence for a moment. He looks up and is met by a disappointed look.

“I know what you’re thinking, but we can’t trust anyone who uses magic, Percival. They’ve all been consumed by its power. You know this.”

Percival sighs and looks out through the window. 

“Yeah,” he says at last, “I know that’s always been Camelot’s stance on magic, but out here...”

They sit in silence for another minute before Percival rises and walks towards the corridor leading to the crew quarters. Then he turns back to Arthur.

“Sir?” he says, “Please make sure Merlin takes over the helm in a couple of hours. You need rest, too.”

~***~

When Merlin comes to relieve him of the steering duties Arthur doesn’t immediately leave. He rarely does. Most often he just stays on the bridge and sits next to Merlin in the silence, loving him in the most unfulfilling way — unable to tell him and unable to stop.

Sometimes they talk. Never of what happened when they had to leave Camelot, but Arthur wants to say something, anything, to remind them of home today. He misses the city and the ease of their life in it.

“You were always the worst person to be woken up by in the mornings,” he says. “Frankly, even George was better.”

Merlin huffs out a laugh and adjusts the ship’s speed before answering.

“You were always the worst person to wake up.”

“I was not. Surely there must’ve been someone who was worse,” Arthur says.

“Well, perhaps there was, but I only ever had to deal with you.”

“Then how do you know I was the worst? I might’ve been the best.”

Merlin shoots him a meaningful glance immediately followed by a cheeky grin. Arthur’s heart skips a beat but he pretends to be affronted.

“You always were the worst servant, Merlin.”

“How rude! My highness, you surely were raised better than that.”

The words sink into Arthur’s mind slowly but when they’re in there he can’t get them out. He thinks of his dad and how Morgana didn’t even bother to give him a chance before snapping his neck and hauling his body out of the palace and into the streets. Swallowing thickly, he turns away from Merlin and looks back out into the blackness of space. 

“Arthur, I— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” 

Smiling sadly, Arthur turns back to Merlin. “Don’t worry about it.”

The expression on Merlin’s face shows that he is worried, though. The moment has passed, Arthur realises. Maybe that’s what it’ll always be like out here: full of difficult memories with little chance of creating new, happier ones. 

He clears his throat and gets up from his chair.

“I’ll hit my bunk for a few hours, then.”

“Yeah, okay,” Merlin says softly.

But Arthur can feel Merlin's eyes on his back all the way out of the room.

~***~

Arthur counts every small rivet on the metal walls in his quarters for the thousandth time to try and numb his mind and drift off to sleep, but it’s impossible. Without wanting to, his mind wanders to Camelot and Morgana.

He doesn’t exactly resent being here out in the dark of space with only his closest friends and Merlin, but he feels… lost and pointless. Merlin tells him he works too hard and that he needs to sleep sometimes, to take a break, but Arthur can’t even if he tries. Every time he closes his eyes, he has to relive the horror of watching his dead father, the palace burning, and Morgana striding towards him with glowing eyes and her hands outstretched like she wants to wrap her pale fingers around his throat and strangle him until he falls into an eternal sleep. He shudders at the thought.

And if Morgana is after them again now.... There’s nothing he can do to protect the others. He won’t be able to protect Merlin.

He doesn’t know what to do.

~***~

At dinner, everyone is quiet, contemplating the increased threat they’re living under until Gwaine blurts out that he might know a wizard that can help.

Everyone stills, but Merlin’s whole body goes rigid and he quickly looks down onto the tabletop. Arthur notices the odd reaction, but focuses on the more pressing matter.

“What?” he says, voice sharp. “You’ve had dealings with a wizard? When?”

Gwaine doesn’t seem bothered by Arthur’s tone of voice at all and meets his gaze without hesitation.

“Does it matter?” he says.

“Magic is corrupt, so yes,” Arthur replies, anger bubbling up in his chest. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I definitely know more than a spoilt prince from a planet where magic’s always been outlawed.”

Arthur wants to scream that he’s not just a prince anymore, not since Morgana murdered Uther. Instead, he clenches his fists and tries really hard not to give in to the desire to punch Gwaine in the face.

“You should watch your mouth.”

“Or what?”

Leon interrupts. “Gwaine just means there might be good magic out there, too, sir.”

“And you know of such magic, Leon?” Arthur says.

“I—”

Leon quickly shoots a glance towards where Gaius and Merlin are sitting, and then fixes his gaze on his still half-full plate. 

“No. No, not really. But the Druids saved my life on the Essetir mission, as you know, sir.”

Arthur watches him carefully, but Leon still won’t look up from his food.

“I, too, have been saved by magic, sir.” 

Lancelot meets Arthur’s eye but offers up no further explanation. When and wherever he was saved by magic, it must have been before he’d met Arthur.

Gaius clears his throat. 

“Maybe, sir,” he says, “we need to start thinking about the alternatives we haven’t previously considered.”

The suggestion is expected, especially after the conversation with Percival last night.

“You dabbled in magic before.”

“I did,” Gaius says hesitantly, “but I haven’t practiced it since Uther outlawed it.”

“Are you strong enough to take on Morgana?”

Sighing, Gaius shakes his head. “No, sir, I’m afraid I’m not. I wouldn’t be strong enough even if I had had these twenty-two years to practice.”

“Well, we can’t trust an unknown sorcerer. Unless someone has a new angle to all of this, we’re still stuck with the same problem.”

Arthur’s eyes fall on Merlin, who is still staring, frozen, on the tabletop in front of him. The only movement is that he worries his lower lip with his teeth, but he keeps quiet. Unusual, since he rarely shuts up otherwise.

“How about you, Merlin?”

With a shaky breath, Merlin shoots a glance at Gaius before looking up at Arthur and then quickly away again. 

He clears his voice before answering. “Yeah?”

“What do you think?”

“I… I don’t think anything about magic, really.”

Lancelot sighs quietly. Merlin shrugs lightly, seemingly to no one in particular, and looks back down at the table. Gwen takes Lancelot’s hand and squeezes it gently.

It’s like they all know something Arthur doesn’t. Suddenly feeling exhausted and sick of them all, Arthur drops the fork onto his plate.

“You know what?” he says. “Someone else has to take the helm tonight. I’m off to bed.”

And then he gets up and leaves. 

“Arthur,” he hears Gwen’s voice behind him. “Arthur, wait…”

It’s too little too late, he thinks. If they all know something he doesn’t, then why just not tell him? Unless they think he’s not able to protect them anymore. Maybe they think he’s put them in this predicament and they're getting sick of running. The gods should know Arthur is. Gwen and Lancelot probably would have settled down to have children by now if this hadn’t happened. Gaius would have retired and been living a relaxing, happy life in a small cottage somewhere with a big herb garden and walking distance to the sea. Leon would maybe have found himself a wife, too. Gwaine would be out galavanting, chasing women and charming men, as usual… 

Arthur slams the door shut to his quarters and sits down on the edge of his bed. Then he covers his face with his hands and fights back the tears.

~***~

It’s not unexpected when it happens, but Arthur had wished for more time anyway.

In this particular moment, there isn’t much to do except hold on for dear life. The old metal groans and the whole ship shakes from the impact of powerful magic, and Arthur knows they will have to abandon it eventually. Damn Morgana. Why couldn’t she just leave them be?

“Merlin! Get the others into the escape pod and leave. We should be close enough to a world for you to make it.”

“No, I—”

“It’s not negotiable, Merlin. Please. Just get them.”

Merlins presses his lips together and runs off to find the others. Left alone, trying to control the rapidly spiralling-out-of-control ship, Arthur hopes Morgana’s only really after him, so the others might escape. He’ll plead with her if he has to. The idea of Gwen, Leon, and, Gods forbid, Merlin lying lifeless on the floor makes him feel physically ill, and he instead focuses on stopping the ship getting blown into pieces.

She wants him alive though, at least at first. She wants to see him die by her own hand.

There’s movement by the door.

“Sir, we’ve prepared the pod. Come on!”

Leon. Faithful, wonderful Leon. Arthur will miss him for as long as Morgana keeps him alive.

“I can barely keep the ship on an even keel as it is, you go ahead and I’ll catch up! Just make sure everyone’s on board and I’ll do the checks.”

Arthur watches Leon leave and knows he won’t join them. He wishes he had taken the opportunity to kiss Merlin years ago. Maybe, that way, he would at least know what those lips would feel like against his. Maybe things would have ended up differently altogether.

With a blinding flash of light and an ear-deafening bang, the ship is directly hit by one of Morgana’s blasts. The soothing hum of the motor quiets and Arthur suddenly can’t hear anything but his own breaths.

He hits the comm button for the pod. “Leon, close the door and eject! If you won’t leave now you might be stuck!”

 _“Arthur, we’ll wait—”_

The voice is tinny but there’s no misunderstanding what he’s trying to say.

“Leon, that’s an order! Just go!”

_“Not—”_

“Not an argument, Leon! Go!”

As Arthur turns the comm button off, there’s a loud bang again. Arthur turns around just as the bridge door opens and Morgana takes a step into the room. When she spots him, she smiles, but it’s not the smile Arthur remembers from when they were children. That smile is gone forever. 

“Brother,” she says, “how lovely to see you.”

Arthur sighs and gets up from the captain’s chair. “Unfortunately I can’t say the same.”

“No, I can imagine.”

“I’ll come voluntarily if you promise to let the others go.”

Morgana tuts and lets out an unnatural little laugh. 

“Oh brother, I won’t make that promise. You see, I’ve become more powerful than you can ever imagine. I don’t need to make any deals with anyone anymore. I’m in control now.”

She carelessly gestures towards the end of the ship, fingertips crackling softly as her magic surges.

“They’re mine to punish for their stupidity, Arthur, and so are you.”

“They’ve done nothing—”

“However,” she interrupts and meets his eyes, “I’ll leave their punishment for after-dinner entertainment. First—”

“Morgana.” 

Arthur and Morgana both turn towards the voice. Merlin stands in doorway leading to the quarters and Arthur’s heart sinks. 

“Merlin, why—?”

With a sad smile, Merlin quickly shoots him a glance.

“I swore I would protect you or die at your side, remember?”

And Arthur remembers how a young Merlin had told him that. They’d been out hunting and stumbled upon a deep rock basin and Merlin — then several years younger and even more wiry and pale — had screamed that right before pushing Arthur off the edge into the water, and then jumping in after laughing his head off. Arthur’s kept that memory close to his heart all these years, but wouldn’t have thought Merlin even remembered it.

“I do,” he says slowly.

“How precious.” Morgana scoffs and turns back to Arthur. “You two have always been unnaturally close for a prince and a servant. Should I perhaps make him suffer while you watch, Arthur?”

“Don’t you d—” Arthur starts, but Merlin interrupts him.

“Give the crown back to Camelot’s rightful heir, Morgana.” 

His voice is even and strong, and he’s got his hand outstretched, palm up, almost like Morgana’s a difficult toddler and he’s expecting her to hand him back a physical crown.

“And why would I do that, Merlin? You’re at a disadvantage. You have nothing to defend yourselves.”

She raises her right arm and Arthur can see the magic sparkle hungrily at her fingertips.

“Do you know what revenge magic feels like?”

Arthur wishes he could do something to protect them both, but he’s drawing a blank. The only thing he can think of is to keep her talking.

“Morgana, please—”

She ignores him, but just as Morgana opens her mouth to utter the spell, Merlin swings both his arms forward and there’s a horrible deep screeching sound as the spell he casts blocks Morgana’s fire spell. There’s a second where the enchantments seem to be frozen, almost stuck, to each other, and then Morgana loses control. The fireball rapidly expands to more than double its size before there’s this loud _whoosh_ and all three of them are knocked to the floor. Arthur watches Merlin’s protective spell sizzle out as he falls and then everything goes black.

~***~

When Arthur wakes up, he doesn’t know where he is and for a moment, he thinks he’s lying on the grass below the palace tower, watching the clouds glide across the sky above. He wants to stay here, he thinks.

Unfortunately, his body hurts and in Camelot there never used to be much pain until… 

Morgana.

Trying to get up, there’s pain everywhere. Arthur groans as he tries to remember. Morgana attacked him and Merlin, and Merlin… Merlin has magic. His friend, his closest friend, the man he loves… has magic. Where is he?

Slowly, Arthur looks around and first sees Morgana, or what’s left of her. Feeling queasy at the thought, he looks away and discovers Merlin lying almost all the way to the wall. His body looks wrong, somehow. Twisted and limp like it’s been tossed about like a ragdoll.

“Merlin…” Arthur’s voice is weak and his throat dry. He coughs. “Merlin.”

There’s nothing. Arthur slowly crawls across the floor and takes a firm grip of the blue neckerchief Merlin always wears and that’s still tied around his neck.

“Merlin. Merlin, wake up. You need to wake up.” 

He shakes him a bit, but that elicits no response. Merlin can’t be… He just can’t. Arthur leans in and rests his head on Merlin’s shoulder as he can’t keep the tears away any longer. They are torn from him roughly, his breath with them, and maybe this is the punishment Arthur deserves for never having told Merlin how he feels. _I deserve it,_ he thinks, _I deserve it all._

And then there’s a gentle hand on his arm.

“Arthur?”

“Merlin! You’re alive, you’re— Thank the gods, you’re alive, please—”

Merlin coughs loudly. 

“Take it easy,” Arthur says, desperately, “We’ll get help, we’ll—”

“I’m— I’m sorry, Arthur.”

“No. No, don’t be silly, without you I’d be dead. Without your magic we’d both be dead. There’s— there’s absolutely nothing to be sorry about.”

He knows it’s not the time, but he needs to do it so he leans in closer. When he licks his lips they taste like smoke but he won’t wait any longer in case something else happens. Afraid Merlin will turn his head away, he hesitates slightly when they’re so close they’re sharing the same air, but then Merlin reaches up and pulls Arthur down into a careful kiss. It’s awkward and dry and absolutely awful but also the best thing Arthur has ever experienced because it’s with Merlin.

“About time,” Merlin whispers when they break apart.

Arthur rolls his eyes but can’t help smiling. “Sorry.”

Merlin smiles too. “Kiss me again and might just forgive you.”

~***~

Arthur’s lying in the grass, watching the stars. The king’s not supposed to sneak out in the middle of the night, and if the guards find out they’ll ring the bells and there will be hell to pay.

However, it’s difficult to stay inside when it’s a beautiful, starry night, and Merlin is fast asleep in their bed in Arthur’s chamber. Outside, there’s the wide, open sky with the bright, blinking stars above and the solid ground underneath him, and it helps Arthur realise he’s finally back home again.

“Want company?”

Merlin’s dressed only in his pyjamas and is walking barefoot towards him in the soft, damp grass. Arthur nods.

“Always, if it’s you.”

Smiling at how soppy he is, Merlin sits down next to him. They sit quietly for a while, hand in hand, watching the dark sky.

“It was always meant to be you,” Merlin says softly.

“Hm?”

“Who would take over Camelot. It was always written in the stars.”

“In the stars?”

“Yes. Watch.”

And Arthur watches as Merlin reaches up towards the sky and closes his fist. He holds his hand right in front of Arthur and when he opens it, there are hundreds of tiny, glittering stars lying in his palm.

“Oh,” Arthur breathes.

With a whispered spell, Merlin drops the stars and they immediately start vibrating with energy in the air in front of them. The lights start weaving themselves together and Arthur could happily watch them forever. When the stars’ creation is finally done, Merlin carefully takes the glittering crown and places it on Arthur’s head.

It’s not heavy like the crown he normally wears, but light like the air around them.

Merlin smiles and whispers as he leans in for a kiss, “Our star king.”

~***~  
THE END  
~***~


End file.
